


Electrify

by BiconBane



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Gen, HYDRA Trash Party, Hydra (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 00:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5950138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiconBane/pseuds/BiconBane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, twice, thrice?</p>
<p>How many times</p>
<p>Can I remember you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electrify

**Once**

The pain, that was normal. It hurt, but it always did. What felt like electricity raced through him, arching across his brain and pulverizing what thought was left in it. He was screaming, he though distantly, as the electricity raced further and further into his mind. That was normal too, he thought.

It was getting harder to remember. Blackness that he knew well was beginning to close in. The only thing that shown through it was blue. Blue so bright that it was hard to look at.

The electricity didn’t want to look at it either. It lunged forward, taking more and more. He ran from it, towards the blue. The brightness nearly hurt, but the electricity was torture. He lept towards the blue—

And the electricity caught him, and tore him away, away, _away_ until there was only black.

**Twice**

The guard was forced into his mouth and he felt a huge needle slid into flesh arm. It burned on the way in, not helped by his tense muscles. Why fight? That black part of his mind whispered. It’ll be worse, it taunted.

It was right. It was always worse when they wanted it to be, when he didn’t go willingly. Why? The black asked and he thought about it, before the electricity came. Why?

A feeling, was the answer. A feeling that came with… fists. Clenched. Small fists, small hands, much smaller than his. Why?

_Why? Why? Why?_

The electricity didn’t like questions.

**Thrice**

A grin. A kind one. That was what tore him away from the black now, and the black screamed in frustration, trying to grab him and pull him back into inky, slimy darkness.

It failed.

That grin. That _smile_. He knew it. Where? How?

A tech reached for him and he punched the tech so hard, he crumpled. Absently, he wondered if he would get up again. Guns pointed at him, trigger fingers itching.

He grinned. It wasn’t as nice or as kind, but he _grinned_.

They feared him.

The electricity did not.

**Times… Later. So many…**

The bridge. The man on the bridge. The man with the blue (blue eyes), with the fists (bigger now, but the same), with the grin (the man hadn’t grinned, but he remembered that it was _kind_ ).

He knew him.

He knew him.

He told them.

“Prep him.”

The black laughed.


End file.
